


Meeting

by MilayaMilenZeal



Series: Genetrix [2]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Mama Naga Theory, Mention of Promptis, Post-Game(s), Pre-Game(s)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 18:02:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10882080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MilayaMilenZeal/pseuds/MilayaMilenZeal
Summary: Names are important, because they help define what kind of person you’ll be… and the kind of person that you’ll be remembered as.--An off-shoot of "Long Live the Queen", but can be read separately without a lot of knowledge of it. Will have hints of Promptis, but it's not the main focus of the story.





	Meeting

While Regina Argentum more often than not hates to admit that she needs help with anything, she isn’t above actually asking for it. Especially in this particular case that requires extreme precision and accurate data on the matter.

So who better to ask than Libri Doctrina?

“…you want me to look someone up?” Libby asks curiously as she adjusts her glasses. “That’s a first… and who, exactly?”

“…Before that, you need to promise not to tell anyone about this, okay?”

Libby cocks an eyebrow at her, curious now. And it’s really no wonder, because Regina never asks that… well, not usually, anyway.

“…Very well, I’ll bite, Regina,” Libby says finally as she shuts her book. “What is this about?”

After a moment of thought, Regina finally sighs and pulls out the locket from her pocket. “I want to know the identity of the woman in this picture…” she says as she clicks it open and passes it to Libby. “Right now, though, all I have is her name.” She pauses to point to the other side of the locket; to the barely legible writing engraved in the metal.

_I love you, Flora_

Libby hums softly, adjusting her glasses. And she doesn’t appear to be surprised about the request, either. “You’re aware that that is not a lot of information to go on, correct?”

“I know…” Regina pauses to smirk. “But you like the challenge, right?”

Libby replies to the smirk with her own. “You guessed correctly.”

 

**_January 5, M.E. 725_ **

If there’s one thing that Flora hates (more than anything), then it would be her name. it’s why she doesn’t give her name to just about anyone, especially after all she’s gone through during her early years. And as she walks through Gralea’s busy streets, gaze aimed at the ground as she walks, she isn’t surprised at the jeers she receives, the laughs and the finger pointing.

Supposedly, her mother had named her such because she’d hoped for her daughter to grow into a beautiful lady and attract the eye of one of the higher ranked officers of Niflheim’s army, or perhaps a wealthy scientist or researcher, and preferably very early on… but, of course, life was not so kind to her. As it never was…

Her blonde hair, while it looks well when freshly washed, it rarely ever was… or at least not “properly” washed. Hard to do that with only a few drops a week so as to preserve the shampoo for as long as possible, because of course they couldn’t afford such luxury all the time. Her skin was pale; a side-effect of living at the bottom scales of Gralea, where the sun could barely reach them, and this made her freckles stand out all the more. Really, the only thing most would consider “good looking” were her eyes. But even those were never enough to draw anyone in…

At least not anyone willing to take her in and treat her well…

She arrives at her destination; this shitty little diner where she has to work 50 hours a week (working an extra hour every Friday and Saturday) to even begin to make enough money to support herself… let alone her mother and ailing father. Her mother has a part time-job that she does from home, so she got the easy part, while also getting to take care of her husband, but it wasn’t a well-paying job… so… yeah.

Flora pulls on her uniform in the back, ties up her hair in a bun and tries to make herself look presentable. She takes a heavy breath as she looks into the mirror, holds it, and then slaps her hips, then her collarbone and then cheeks and she makes herself smile the way she’d been taught by her senior, gives a cheery “Good morning!” to get herself in the zone, and then her shift begins.

 

It’s just a normal day, and nothing really interesting happens that would warrant any sort of interference… but one of the things she’s learned to pick up quickly are the rumors that customers will share with their friends when they think no one else is listening. She always makes it seem like she’s not listening; acts like all she’s doing is either pass by while making sure not to spill anything or just coming over to ask them if they want a refill or if she can take their orders already.

The rumors come to her, seemingly on their own, and this brings her the news of the war that’s on the verge of beginning and she does her best to not spill anything as the word reaches her ears.

Of course she know about the war; who doesn’t know, really? They all know the Emperor has… _changed_ , but no one knows why… He used to be a kind man and would offer even those on the lower scales some of his blessings… or at least some emotional support or… something, really.

Now? Now not so much so…

When her father became ill, along with so many others on the lower scales, there wasn’t so much as a peep from the Emperor, and – if anything – it was like they’d been abandoned. And for what? A war with Insomnia to gain control over the Crystal so they could… what? Well, no one really knows.

Everything’s become such a big mess, and Flora can’t help but feel like they are the ones left to deal with the repercussions the war would bring them. But whatever happened, Flora’s sure that the inhabitants of Niflheim would be the ones having the deal with it all.

She breathes in softly and goes to another table… and she immediately realizes that something’s off.

These aren’t regulars, nor are they people from around the area who’ve just spotted the diner and are thinking to try it out because why not? These man – all four of them – are too well-dressed to be from anything but the upper scales, and that worries her… greatly. People from the upper scales don’t usually come this far down, and whenever they _do_ , it’s never a good thing.

She shakes her concerns off, though, and she breathes in deeply, prepping herself, and then she approaches and speaks. “Good morning~ Can I take your order or would you care for a drink, first?”

She’s recited the same words so many times before that they’ve become almost second nature to her. She doesn’t change her expression when the men give her their drink orders, stating they will have their orders ready when she brings the drinks and that’s fine. That’s usually how it goes anyway, so it doesn’t bother her in the slightest as she jots down their orders; two teas (one with three sugar, one with nothing), one espresso and one cappuccino.

As she moves away, though, she accidentally catches the eye of the man who ordered the espresso. She’s not sure why, but he’s looking at her with a look she doesn’t understand, initially, but as she’s going to the back to fix the drinks, she thinks she knows… but then quickly dismisses it.

She’s probably just seeing things…

 

When Flora returns to the table, the men are absorbed in their discussion, which seems pretty heated despite how quiet they’re all being, and before she even gets within range, they stop their conversation as she hands out their drinks. This strikes her as somewhat odd, that they would stop so far ahead to keep whatever they’re speaking of to themselves, but she supposes she can’t say speak from experience here, since she rarely ever interacts with people on higher scales.

But still…

She takes their orders then, and passes them to the cooks to have them prepared for her. Thankfully, it doesn’t take overly long and she’s walking back with said orders within five minutes. She holds the tray in both hands, just to be extra sure she won’t spill anything, even if there isn’t much to spill. These are people from the higher scales; if she can give them a good impression of the diner, they may come back again… and maybe spend some more money.

As Flora walks though, she spots a familiar face and she frowns, briefly, as she catches the cold amusement in his eyes. She knows what’s coming; she’d fallen for it too many times already for it to work again, even if he doesn’t realize it yet, and this knowledge almost makes her smirk icily.

After all; it’s _not_ a good idea to aggravate a woman.

So when a foot come up in her path as she’s about to pass him, she stops, raises her foot high, and then jabs it down heel first. Of course there’s a howl of agony and she’s quick to remove her foot and she quickly gasps and looks at the man in obvious mock-shock to those who bother to look.

“Oh my gosh I’m _so_ sorry! I totally didn’t see your foot there trying to trip me up, sir!” she says in mock horror, and she knows normally he would’ve exploded on her, but the words she’s just spoken get enough people to look at him in suspicion that he thinks twice on it and eventually backs down.

She tries not to smirk as she give one more apology before she moves to continue her delivery. She apologizes for the delay as she passes out the plates to each of them. They’d also been staring, but they seem to be almost amused by the interaction. They don’t say anything about it, though, and she doesn’t bring it up, either, since she has better things to do.

The money won’t earn itself, after all.

 

When it’s her time to have lunch, all she really eats is a single granola bar, an apple and a bottle of tap water. She’s never had much of an appetite. It’s kind of hard to have one when you’re forced to live on so little. But it’s okay; it just means she can go back to work faster so she can (hopefully) earn some extra money. Doesn’t always work, since the boss is just _way_ too stingy when it come to paying them overtime, but she doesn’t dare ask either, because if she dares to complain she’ll be replaced before she can even try to apologize for her behavior.

Once she’s done with her “lunch” she heads back out again. As she moves to take another table’s order, though, the four men from higher up call for her to ask for the bill.

Well… the guy who ordered the espresso does, anyway.

“Sure~ I’ll be right there, sir,” she promises, before moving to take the order of the other table.

That thankfully doesn’t take too long, and after dropping off the order at the counter, she picks up the bill for the men’s table and moves over. And, deep down, secretly, she hopes they’ll at least give her a small tip. Because really, that’s really all she and the other waitresses live off of. But she’s also heard stories about how incredibly stingy those from the higher scales were, so she tries to not get her hopes up too much.

They each toss down a few bills, and they _do_ leave her a tip (thank the Six for that!) albeit a small one, but hey, every little bit helps. As they get up to leave, though “espresso guy” (yeah, real original…) passes her by and says something that almost makes her freeze, unsure, confused, terrified and… perhaps a little bit intrigued…

“I’m sorry for your loss, Miss Flora.”

She has no time to question it, because he’s already out the door once she’s able to get her bearings straight. Flora isn’t sure what the words mean, but they definitely strike fear in her, for a reason she can’t explain. However, she shakes the matter off quickly, and decides to not fret on it.

She has more important things to deal with…

 

When she comes home much later… she learns her father’s passed away…


End file.
